


The Best Dragons in the World

by keep_waking_up



Series: The Draconis Winchester Chronicles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mood Whiplash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is the most excited four-year-old dragon in the world when he finds out that he’s going to get a baby brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Dragons in the World

**Author's Note:**

> For the son_reversebang 2014 challenge, with art by the lovely necrora! You can find a masterpost of her art at this link: http://necrora.livejournal.com/10763.html

 

 

  
                                                               [  
](http://necrora.livejournal.com/10763.html)

 

 

 

Dean had been quite concerned, for a while—well, as much as a four-year-old dragon _could_ be concerned when he’d just learned to fly—about how fat his mommy was getting.  It was hard to remember it, when he was flapping his wings and actually _getting_ somewhere, but when he was tired and Mommy pulled him down to rest on her lap, the space seemed to gradually shrink.

 

Daddy had said at some point that it was rude to ask a lady about her weight, but this was Dean’s mommy, not some random lady.  One night, he’d tried to snuggle up with her, both of them in their human forms, and had been disgruntled to realize there was no place _left_ to snuggle.  He poked her stomach with a frown.  “Mooommmmy,” he whined.  “Your belly is taking my spot.”

 

Mommy laughed, and it rumbled through Dean’s bones, dragon strong as they were.  “Ah, I’m sorry, little one.  I didn’t mean to make it so you couldn’t snuggle.”  She put her hands up on her belly and stroked it a few times, much like she normally stroked Dean’s hair.  Dean glared at the belly.  “But my belly had to get bigger.  You see, I’ve got an egg growing in there.  And inside that egg is your new brother or sister.”

 

It was one thing for his mother’s belly to take his spot, and _another_ thing for that belly to house a new brother or sister.  Dean examined the mound with new interest.  “So, there’s an egg in there?  Just like the egg I was in, before I was born?”

 

“ _Just_ like it,” Mommy agreed warmly.  She took Dean’s hand in her own and placed it on her belly.  “Feel how warm that is?” she asked, and Dean felt her skin near burning through the thin sweater she was wearing.  He trilled happily and shoved his cheek up against it.  “Yes, it’s nice and warm,” she laughed, petting his head how he liked.  “Nice and warm for your little brother or sister.”

 

Something occurred to Dean then, and he lifted up his head to stare quizzically at his mommy.  “But Mommy, how is the egg gonna get out of your belly?”  As far as he knew, his momma’s belly didn’t have any convenient ways to get the egg _out_.

 

Mommy laughed again and ruffled his hair.  “Well, Dean, I have to transform into my dragon form in order to get the egg out.”  Her lips twitched a bit and she continued, “then, I have to push it out of my vagina.  Do you remember what a vagina is, Dean?”

 

Dean wrinkled his nose.  “It’s the thing that girls have instead of a penis,” he recited dutifully.  “So, that’s where eggs come from?  Did _I_ come out of your vagina?”  He was a bit horrified at the thought.  Mommy had shown him a picture of a vagina once, because he’d been curious.  It had looked so strange, like a little alien face without eyes.  He hadn’t liked the idea of having anything to do with one.

 

“Yes, you came from there too,” Mommy said indulgently.  “I know it seems gross now, but that’s how eggs are born.  They have to come from _somewhere_.”

 

“Jimmy-down-the-street said storks brought babies,” Dean informed her, feeling very knowledgable.  “He said we were all brought by storks.  But _I_ knew better, because _I_ came from an egg because _I’m_ a dragon.”  He paused.  “I didn’t tell him that though,” he reassured his mother.  “I know better than to tell.”

 

Shoulders slumping a bit in relief, Mommy resumed petting Dean’s hair.  “Good boy.  You must never, _ever_ tell.”

 

“Otherwise the gods will take my wings away!  Just like Bluebeard’s wife!” Dean jumped in, finishing the story.  “He told her not to look, but she couldn’t help it.  And as soon as she saw the wings, the gods got mad and they went whoosh!”

 

“Whoosh,” Mommy agreed.  “We don’t want your pretty green wings to go whoosh, do we?” She asked, tickling Dean’s stomach as he giggled and shook his head.  “No we don’t,” she affirmed, relenting in her tickling, and letting Dean press up beside her again.  “You’re going to have to teach your brother or sister all about Bluebeard and the humans and wings,” she told him.  “You’re going to have to teach them all sorts of things.  That’s what good big brothers do, you know.  They teach their little siblings everything they know.”

 

Hesitantly, Dean put his hand back on her belly and rubbed it a bit, wondering if the egg liked being petted as much as he did.  “So… it’s like a job?  Being a big brother?  It’s a job like grown-ups have?”

 

“Yes, big brothers have to be very grown up for their little siblings.  And you, my little one, are going to be the best big brother ever,” Mommy told Dean as she smiled down at him, and he beamed back, basking in her praise.  “Aren’t you?”  Dean nodded eagerly, and Mommy laughed.  “Good,” she said.

 

After that, Dean made a point to pay a lot of attention to his mommy’s belly.  He didn’t want his little brother or sister to feel left out.  During snuggle times, he whispered things to the egg in his mommy’s belly, telling it all the things it’d have to know when it came out into the world.  He was determined to be the best big brother ever.  The little egg would be able to count on him.

 

 

                                                             

 

 

A few weeks later, Dean’s mommy and daddy hired a babysitter to stay with Dean overnight, and when his parents came back the next day, his mommy’s belly was flat and his daddy had an egg in his arms.  Dean trilled delightedly, shifting to his dragon form so he could fly up and greet the egg properly.  It was rather plain looking, he thought, but it was as nice and warm as his mommy’s belly had been.  He reached with eager claws to take the egg from his daddy.

 

“Whoa, kiddo!”  Daddy moved the egg out of reach, cradling it closer to his chest.  “I don’t think so.  I know you want to say hi to Sam here, but he needs to stay with mom and dad right now, okay?”

 

“ _Sam_?” He tilted his head curiously.  He could see a few letters carefully written on the egg.  He’d just learned his ABCs, but he didn’t know how to read yet.  So even though he could identify each letter—S-A-M-M-Y—he had no idea what they meant.  “ _Is the egg Sam?_ ”

 

Mommy smiled and opened her arms for him to fly into.  Dean was more than happy to do so, flying close and humming happily when she squeezed him to her chest.  “Yes, Dean,” she told him.  “When the egg came out of me, we found it that he was a boy, just like you!  We named him Samuel, after your grandpa, but we’re going to call him Sam.  Or Sammy.”

 

“ _Sammy,_ ” Dean repeated curiously.  “ _Can Sammy come live in my room with me?_ ”

 

Both his parents laughed, although Dean didn’t see what was so funny.  He pouted up at his mommy until she rubbed the scales on his head.  “I’m glad you want to take care of your brother, sweetheart, but eggs are very delicate,” she told him gently, but firmly.  “So you need to make sure your daddy or I are around when you wanna play with Sammy.”

 

Dean didn’t exactly know what “delicate” meant, but he did understand that his mommy didn’t think he was grown-up enough to take care of Sammy on his own.  Unhappy, he squirmed in her arms until she released him and he could fly off to his room to sulk.

 

He pushed the door to his room closed behind him and waddled over to his nest, a mound of blankets and toys that he had very carefully arranged.  He’d expanded it recently, because he’d known that the egg— _Sammy—_ would want its—his—own space.  He’d even decided that it could have his favorite teddy bear, because Mommy had told him that the best big brothers shared everything.  He’d been looking forward to being able to tell the egg stories every night and curl up with it to sleep.  But now Mommy didn’t trust him to take care of it!  It wasn’t fair.

 

Dean, according to his parents, was a very stubborn boy.  He managed to pout for what felt like a really long time, but it turned out that pouting was kind of boring, and it wasn’t all that fun to lay in his nest without the egg there.  Dean decided the best use of his time would be to rearrange the nest.  Clearly, he just needed to prove to Mommy that he was a big boy, and then she would let Sammy come and sleep with him in his nest, where he belonged.

 

When his mommy came in a little while later, she cooed over how finely made his nest was and how neatly, yet elegantly, he’d organized everything.  Dean puffed up his chest with pride and then showed his mommy the spot he’d made for Sammy.  She smiled at him and shook her head a bit.  “I’m so glad you’re doing all this for your brother, Dean.  Maybe Sam can sleep in your nest with you once he’s hatched.  How would you like that?”

 

“ _But I don’t want to wait until he’s hatched, Mommy_!” Dean whined, rubbing his snout up against her leg beseechingly.  “ _I want Sammy to stay in my nest with me_ now _!_ ”

 

Mommy just laughed and told him that it would have to wait.  Then she scooped him up in her arms and said, “we could go sit on the couch with him right now, though.  Isn’t Spider-Man supposed to be on soon?  Do you think Sammy would like that?”

 

Dean perked up.  Sammy would _clearly_ like Spider-Man, because Sammy was Dean’s younger brother and therefore _definitely_ had good taste.  He allowed his mommy to carry him downstairs to the couch, where Daddy was already sitting with Sammy in his lap.

 

Once again, Dean grabbed for the egg and this time, Daddy let him draw Sammy close and wrap his chubby little body around him.  Dean hummed contentedly as he cuddled Sammy, hoping his little brother could hear him through the eggshell.  Dean had the feeling that he did.

 

 

*

 

 

Maybe most little dragons would find an egg kind of boring, but Dean loved his Sammy.  Sam didn’t do much—or really anything at all—but he was warm and smelled good and listened real well when Dean talked.  He didn’t say stupid things like Jimmy-down-the-street, or complain when Dean wanted to play the dragon in Demons versus Dragons.  He wasn’t very good at playing the demon part, but Dean forgave him for that, on account that he was an egg.

 

Still, it was very irritating to always have his mom and dad hovering around whenever he played with Sammy.  Even more irritating was the fact that they wouldn’t let him pick Sammy up and fly him around.  Dean remembered how annoying it was to be unable to fly; he didn’t want Sammy to suffer!  Daddy especially always got very mad whenever Dean tried to pick Sammy up and fly him somewhere.

 

Sammy still wasn’t allowed to stay the night in Dean’s nest either, even though Dean had kept it immaculate.  Not matter how much Dean protested or pleaded, Mommy insisted that Sam wouldn’t be able to stay the night until he was hatched.  Dean knew that Sammy slept nestled between his mommy and daddy every night, which couldn’t be all that comfortable.  Sammy would like Dean’s nest much better, Dean was sure.

 

So Dean came up with a plan to prove that Sam would be just fine sharing a nest with Dean.  He stayed up real late one night, even though his eyelids kept drooping, and it was hard not to climb into his nest and fall asleep.  Once he could hear his daddy’s snores through the walls, he crept out of his room and flew down the hallway to his parent’s room.

 

His parents always left the door open, in case Dean ever needed them in the middle of the night.  It made it easy for Dean to fly in and it was even easier to spot Sammy’s egg, right in the center of the bed.  Carefully, Dean lowered himself down until he could get a good grip on the egg.  His claws scrabbled across the slippery surface, but he finally got a hold of it, making sure not to scratch it.

 

It was a very heavy egg, Dean realized quickly.  He wasn’t able to fly nearly as fast as he moved back towards his bedroom.  He kept accidentally dropping lower to the floor because his wings couldn’t pump fast enough to keep him up high, and his arms hurt from holding the egg.  Even though it was hard, he wanted to spend the night with Sammy in his nest more than anything, so he kept flying.

 

He was almost at his room when his arms got too tired and Sammy slipped out of them.  Dean dove after him, but he wasn’t able to catch Sammy before he hit the ground.  There was a sickening crack, and then the egg rolled until it hit the wall.

 

Panicked, Dean landed and transformed into human form, grabbing at the egg with his pudgy toddler hands.  At first, he thought everything was fine, until he rolled Sammy over to find a crack in the egg’s surface right by where the letters S-A-M-M-Y were carefully lettered.

 

Dean had never seen Sammy have a boo-boo before, mostly because Sammy didn’t move enough to actually _get_ boo-boos.  Dean hummed at Sammy, because he knew how much it hurt when he fell and skinned his knees.  Luckily, he also knew exactly what to do to take care of boo-boos.  He rushed to the bathroom and pulled out his Spider-Man band-aids.  With careful fingers, he opened one up and put it on Sammy, right over his boo-boo.  Then, he pressed a clumsy, childish kiss to the surface of the egg.  “It’s okay, Sammy,” he whispered.  “I’ll take care of you.”

 

It was hard to carry the egg in his human form, so he dragged it to his nest instead, making sure Sammy didn’t get rug-burn by swaddling him in a blanket first.  He put Sammy in the spot specially-made for him in Dean’s bed and beamed over at his brother as he lay down.  “I’m glad you’re here, Sammy,” he told his little brother.  “I’m gonna take good care of you.  I’m gonna be the best big brother ever.”  He fell asleep curled around Sammy, exhausted from their adventure.

 

The next morning, he woke up to his momma screaming, “John!  _John_!  I can’t find Sam!  Oh my God, John, Sam’s gone!”

 

Mommy sounded really distressed, so Dean yawned and walked into the hallway, where his mother was frantically opening doors and cupboards.  “It’s okay, Mommy,” he said, and she whipped around to look at him.  He’d never seen Mommy look so scared before; her eyes were wide and wild.  His lower lip started trembling.  “Mommy, it’s okay,” he repeated.  “Sammy just spent the night with me.”

 

No sooner had he finished speaking than Mommy rushed into his room.  With a loud cry, she scooped Sammy up out of his nest and hugged him close.  “Oh my God,” she breathed, then turned on Dean angrily.  “Dean, what were you thinking?!  I _told_ you Sammy couldn’t stay with you until he hatched!”

 

Tears welled in Dean’s eyes.  He couldn’t remember his mommy ever yelling at him before.  “I’m s-s-sorry, M-m-mommy,” he stuttered out, clutching his teddy bear close.  “I just r-r-really w-wanted S-sammy to stay w-with m-m-me!”  Unable to help himself, he burst into tears.

 

His mommy calmed down quickly after that, drawing him close so both he and Sammy were in her lap.  She crooned soothingly until his tears quieted into little hiccups.  “It’s okay, Dean,” she told him.  “I know you really love your brother and want to share your nest with him, and that’s wonderful.  But it’s _not_ okay that you disobeyed me and spent the night with Sammy even when I told you that was _not_ okay.  Sammy gets hurt really easily right now—”

 

“I k-know!” Dean told her, tears renewed.  “I was carrying him and I dropped him and he got a boo-boo—but I took care of it!  I put a band-aid on it and kissed it and everything!”

 

Mommy’s lips pursed, a shadow of her previous anger flickering across her face before it smoothed back out.  “You did a good job taking care of Sammy’s boo-boo, Dean,” she said softly.  “But Sammy can’t afford to get too many boo-boos right now.  So you have to promise me not to try to pick Sammy up or carry him or anything until he hatches.  Okay?”

 

Dean nodded earnestly.  “I p-promise, Mommy.  I didn’t want Sammy to get h-hurt, honest!”

 

“I know you didn’t, my sweet boy,” Mommy reassured him, hugging him closer.  “I know you only meant well.  We just have to be careful right now, that’s all.  You worried me.”

 

Dean didn’t like the way his mommy got when she was worried.  He made a promise to himself to never do anything like that ever again.

 

 

                                                                 

 

After the incident with Sammy’s boo-boo—which had never gone away, further impressing upon Dean the fact that Sammy was very, _very_ delicate—Dean did his best to be a good boy.  He didn’t try to convince Mommy and Daddy to let him have a sleepover with Sammy anymore, and he kept his nest tidy even though Sammy couldn’t visit.  He helped his father with the dishes and his mama with the cooking.  He let Sammy have his favorite spot on the sofa.

 

Still, much as he loved his egg-Sammy, he was kind of looking forward to when Sammy finally decided to come out.  He’d tried to convince his brother a few times that it was _much_ more interesting outside of his egg, but Sammy had been unresponsive.  He’d complained to his mommy, but she had only laughed and patted him on the head.  “Sammy will come out when he’s ready,” she’d told him.  “I’m sure he’ll hatch any day now.”

 

Dean didn’t remember his own time in his egg, or his hatching, although he’d seen his parents’ pictures of both.  Sometime he _thought_ he could remember hearing voices while he was enclosed in a dark place, but it hurt his head to think about too much.  Remembering was hard work.  He decided he would make Sammy tell him all about being in an egg before _he_ forgot as well.

 

He knew that all baby dragons hatched in their human shape, and he kept wondering what Sammy would look like.  His egg wasn’t much indication, with its plain cream sort of color.  He wondered if Sammy would look like him and their mommy, or whether Sam would take after their daddy.  Dean couldn’t decide what he would like better—soft chocolate Sammy hair or soft golden Sammy hair.  The only thing he _had_ decided was that curls were mandatory.  His mommy had nice gentle waves in her hair, while Dean’s hair was straight and boring.  Mommy’s hair was much nicer to touch.  Sammy deserved nice hair like that.

 

Dean liked to tell his mommy all about Sammy, and what he was going to look like, and his hair.  His mama always listened and nodded very seriously, although sometimes Dean thought she looked like she was trying not to smile.

 

“What do _you_ want Sammy to look like?” Dean asked his mama one day.  That day, he’d decided on light blond hair and teddy-bear brown eyes (like Daddy’s) for Sam.

 

She hummed as she scooped some oatmeal into a bowl for Dean and poured him some juice.  “Well,” she said, setting the food in front of Dean, and then sitting down beside him at the table, “I don’t really think about it too much.”

 

“Really?” Dean asked, astonished, through a mouthful of food.  It had been almost six months since Sammy’s egg had come out; Dean thought about little else.

 

“Really,” Mommy affirmed.  “And chew with your mouth shut, Dean.  Sammy doesn’t want to hear your smacking.”

 

Hurriedly, Dean closed his mouth and swallowed his oatmeal.  Once he’d swallowed, he asked, “but why don’t you think about it, Mommy?  Don’t you wanna know what he looks like?”

 

Laughing a little, Mommy picked up a napkin and wiped the corners of Dean’s mouth where some oatmeal had escaped.  “I _am_ curious,” she agreed, “but it doesn’t really matter to me.  Do you _really_ care what color hair Sammy has?  Will that affect how much you love him?”

 

Dean thought about this for a moment as he took a sip of juice.  “No,” he admitted.  “I don’t _really_ care what color it is.  But Mama…”  He looked up at her with big sincere eyes.  “I think it’s _really_ important that Sammy has curls!”

 

For some reason, that made Dean’s mommy laugh a lot and hug Dean close to her chest, even though he still had some stray food on him.  Dean nuzzled closer, because baby dragons liked to be held, and his mama always told him that Deans liked to be held even better.  He reached up to pet her curls while she laughed and thought, rather seriously, that it really _would_ be much better if Sammy had curls.

 

Other than Sammy, Mama’s curls were the best thing in the world.

 

 

*

 

 

Every night before bed, Dean was allowed to go in and kiss Sammy’s egg goodnight, and the evening of November 2nd, 1983 was no different than the rest.  Daddy was working late, like he usually did on Wednesday nights, so it was just Mommy and Sammy in their bed when Dean kissed the egg goodnight.  Then Mommy kissed _him_ on the forehead and sent him back to his nest, where he curled up for the night.  He was asleep within minutes.

 

It was the heat that woke him up.  He was sweating in his nest, even though he was normally cold at night.  At first, he just pushed his blankets aside, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds to figure out it was _still_ too hot.  Irritated, he scrambled out of his nest and opened his door, determined to get Mommy to cool it down.

 

That’swhen he heard the scream.

 

It wasn’t strong, high-pitched, and wailing, the way the screams had been in that scary movie that Jimmy-down-the-street had shown him.  Those screams had kept him up all night.  _This_ scream would give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

 

The scream was low, cracked, and broken, but the desperation and heart-wrenching pain was clear.  “ _Mary_!” Dean’s daddy screamed, and Dean ran down the hallway, heart thumping in his chest, even as the heat grew stronger and stronger.

 

He got all the way to the door of Mommy and Daddy’s room, close enough to see black flames inside.  He tried to get closer, to figure out what was going on, but then his Daddy grabbed him and pushed something into his arms.  “Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back!” Daddy told him, and Dean had never heard him so scared before.  Anything that scared Daddy was unthinkable, so Dean turned and raced down the stairs, holding Sammy close to his chest.  He couldn’t drop him again, he couldn’t!  There was no time for band-aids and kisses and what would happen if he didn’t get Sammy out of the house soon enough—

 

Dean stumbled as he pushed out the front door, but he didn’t fall.  He ran all the way outside to the front yard and then stopped as he felt Sammy start shaking in his arms.  “No, no!” He whispered, frantically.  He’d done something; he’d hurt Sammy!  Sammy had never shaken before.  “It’s okay, Sammy, it’s okay!”  He glanced up at the house; where were Daddy and Mommy?  He need them; something was wrong with Sammy!

 

The window to Mommy and Daddy’s room was lit with black fire.

 

Something barreled into Dean from behind, picking up both him and Sammy, and he fought for a moment until he realized it was Daddy, carrying them further away from the house.  “Daddy!” Dean cried, not able to the stop the tears on his cheeks.  He didn’t know what was going on and Dad had screamed and Sammy was shaking and _where was his mommy?!_

 

“Dean!” Dad snapped—and that was the first time Dean ever thought of his father as Dad instead of Daddy—“I’m going to put you and Sammy in the car.  You need to stay there.  Do _not_ come out until I tell you, do you understand?”

 

Stung, Dean nodded his head.  “Yes, Daddy,” he said even as he and Sammy were shoved into the backseat of the Impala and closed the door behind him.  He watched as his daddy ran back towards the house, as police cars with their loud sirens pulled up all around and firemen started unravelling hoses.  Sammy was still shaking, but Daddy had _told_ Dean that he wasn’t allowed to leave, so all Dean could do was just sit there and hold Sammy tight.

 

After one particularly fierce shake, the egg quieted, its movements stilling.  Dean breathed a sigh of relief, clutching Sammy tighter to him.  “It’s okay, Sammy,” he repeated, just the way he’d been doing since Daddy had put them in the car.  “You don’t have to shake, it’s okay—”

 

A tiny, baby fist punched through the crack that Dean had made when he’d dropped Sammy.

 

Dean’s mouth dropped open.  “Holy cow,” he exclaimed, fear almost forgotten as he realized that Sammy— _his_ Sammy—was hatching right then and there.  “Come on, Sammy!  You can do it!” He cheered as another little fist punched out beside the first.

 

His mama had told him that hatchings were special, that there was nothing else like them in the whole world.  Dean thought Sammy’s hatching had to be _extra_ special, because it was _Sammy_ , after all.  Of _course_ Sammy would have the best hatching in the world.  It took those hands a little while to break the whole top of the egg, but Dean was there to watch and help.  Carefully, he picked the shards of egg away until he could peer in.

 

Almond-shaped eyes the color of the ocean in Hawaii (which Dean had seen in pictures) stared up at him from under chocolatey-brown, curly hair.  Dean beamed down at his baby brother.  “Hi Sammy,” he whispered.  “It’s good to see you.”  Dean stuck his hands in the egg, careful not to hurt Sammy, and then lifted Sam the rest of the way out of the egg.  Sammy didn’t look like the babies Dean had seen in movies or anything; he had hair and he wasn’t so red and wail-y.  Instead, he was absolutely silent as he looked up at Dean, and his little fists immediately wrapped around the fabric of Dean’s shirt.  Dean hugged him close, nearly bursting with pride.  He couldn’t wait for Mommy and Daddy to see!

 

It felt like a long time before Daddy came back to the car.  He was walking slowly and his expression was more serious than Dean had ever seen it.  Still, as soon as Daddy opened the door, Dean started babbling, too excited to stop himself.  “Look, Daddy!  Sammy hatched!  He’s got blue eyes—or green ones, I can’t tell.  And he’s got the same hair color as you, but it’s all curly like Mama’s!  Just like I wanted!”  He waited a second for his dad to respond, but when he didn’t, Dean eagerly carried on.  “Where’s Mama?  I know she’d want to see Sammy, you have to go get her—”

 

“Your mother’s dead, Dean,” his dad said in a wooden voice and Dean froze in shock.  “Your mother died in the fire up there.  I need to you to hold onto Sammy.  We have to go somewhere now.”

 

“What—” Dean started to say, trying to figure out what his Daddy meant.  He couldn’t have meant what Dean’d _thought_ he meant.  He couldn’t mean that Mommy was really, actually dead.  It was a mistake, Dean knew it.  Mommy was just fine and once she saw Sammy she was going to be so happy and—

 

“Damn it, Dean!”  Dad’s fist slammed against the dashboard of the car.  “Just hold onto Sam and do what I say!  Do you hear me?”

 

Slumping back in his seat, Dean hugged Sam to his chest.  “Yes, Daddy,” he whispered, as the car rumbled below him.  Blissfully innocent, Sam made a soft snuffling sound and pressed his cheek to Dean’s chest.  Hands shaking, Dean patted Sam’s head.

 

His curls were just like Mommy’s.

 

 

*

 

 

At some point, Dean fell asleep in the car.  When he woke up, he was in a strange room on a strange bed, Sammy curled up beside him.  Rubbing his eyes with his fists, Dean looked around the room.  It was a weird room in general, totally and completely barren of anything pretty or shiny.  Even the furniture itself wasn’t that nice looking.  Dean had seen _human_ nests that looked nicer.

 

It took him a minute to register that voices were coming from a slightly open door on the right side of the room.  Pushing himself off the bed, he toddled over to the doorway and peered through.

 

His daddy and a strange older man were yelling at each other.  Dean had never seen his dad look nearly as upset as he did then.  He was stiff with fury as he waved angrily with his hands.  “What are you saying, Samuel?” Daddy asked furiously, looking like he wanted nothing more than to hit the man.  “Are you saying that Mary, your _daughter_ , deserved what she got?  Are you saying we had what was coming to us?”

 

“I _warned_ Mary,” the old man hissed back, his face close to Dean dad’s and pulled into a snarl.  “I _told_ her what would happen.  I _told_ her that this venture of yours would lead to nothing but folly.  And now you come back, tell me my only daughter is _dead_ , that you intend to leave again to hunt down this demon, and take my _grandsons_ with you?  Should I _support_ you in this, John?  Should I tell you that it will all be alright when I know that you are just going to end up killing yourself _and_ your sons?  Should I _condone_ that?”  The old man backed away, shaking his head.  “No, no, I will not send any of the others here with you to join your hopeless cause.  Mary is dead and the only chance we have of revenge is if we—”

 

“The only chance we have of revenge is going after the son of a bitch _now!_ ”  Daddy roared, tiny sparks of flame shooting from his mouth.  “You hide away here in these nests, all of you!  You act like it is some great feat if you destroy _one_ demon in a lifetime!  You’re _cowards_ , expecting that the world will go away if you hide long enough!”

 

“How _dare_ you—!”

 

Dean was jerked back from the door, which was slammed closed in front of him.  Stumbling backwards, he only managed to regain his footing once his back hit the bed.  Two solemn children stared at him from by the door where he’d just been; one was a little girl with dark hair and dark eyes, the other was a boy an inch or so taller with a large forehead.

 

Dean bared his teeth, very aware of the fact that Sammy was behind him.  Whoever these kids were, he didn’t trust them.  Sammy was his to protect and he wasn’t going to let him down.  “Who are you?” He asked fiercely.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“We live here,” the boy said.  He looked like he was at least two years older than Dean, if not more.  He had a look on his face that Dean didn’t like, one that reminded him of Jimmy-down-the-street’s older brother and his friends.  They’d always sneered at Jimmy and Dean, and acted like they were so much cooler just because they had started school and got to ride the bus.  “I’m Christian, and this is Gwen.  We’re your cousins.”

 

Neither of them approached Dean, or tried to hug him or anything, which was a good thing, because he might have bitten their heads off if they’d tried.  “My mommy never said anything about cousins,” he retorted.

 

“That’s because she left the nesting grounds and nested down in the _human world_ ,” Gwen informed him with a wrinkled nose and a prissy tone.  “Dragons aren’t _supposed_ to do that, you know.  It’s not safe out there, on your own.”

 

“Yeah, that’s why she’s dead now,” Christian added on cruelly.

 

Dean’s vision went red with rage.  With a high-pitched scream of fury, he flung himself at Christian.  They landed on the ground with a thud, and Dean raked his nails over any part of Christian he could reach, clinging on when the boy tried to shove him off.  “Shut up, shut up, _shut up!”_ He screeched.  “Don’t you never _ever_ talk about my mama that way again!  I’ll kill you!  I’ll _kill you_!”

 

Suddenly, Dean had the unpleasant sensation of being dragged backwards and upwards.  He howled and kicked, only relaxing when his daddy’s voice sharply said, “Dean!”  Then he recognized the weathered hands holding him and relaxed into his daddy’s grip, although he didn’t stop glaring down at Christian.  The other boy had two deep scratches on his cheek and Dean couldn’t help feeling proud.

 

“Now what’s all this about?” The strange older man his dad had been yelling at asked gruffly.  “Christian, Gwen, you should be at home.”

 

Gwen darted a glance at Dean and scowled when she caught his eye.  “We just wanted to see them,” she told the man.  “We wanted to see if they were weird or something, ‘cause they grew up with the _humans_.”  She said it like it was a dirty word.

 

Daddy’s arms, still wrapped around Dean, tensed.  “I think we’ll be going now,” he said to the older man stiffly.  “It’s clear that it was a mistake to come here.”

 

The old man’s face did something funny, almost like he felt bad about something, but then it went stiff and cold again.  He sounded almost tired, even as he growled, “Do what you want, John.  You always have.  Just don’t come back here and expect sympathy or mercy if you get your sons killed in your stupid quest for revenge.”

 

Dean’s daddy didn’t answer that, just scooped up Sammy in his other arm and walked out of the house.  The Impala was sitting right outside, and Daddy set Dean down next to it and put Sam in his arms.  “Wait right here,” he told Dean, before he stormed back into the house.  Dean held Sammy and waited.

 

Sammy was still sound asleep, little baby mouth open in a soft ‘o’ and chubby fists clenched loosely.  Dean wanted to pet his curls again, but he couldn’t because he needed both arms to hold Sammy.

 

The two children had followed them out.  They stood a few feet away from Dean, both of them glaring.  “You’re not even a _proper_ dragon,” Christian said meanly.  “Can’t be a good dragon if you grow up with _humans_.”  He glanced down at Sammy and sneered.  “I bet there’s no real dragon in him at all.”

 

If Sammy hadn’t been in his arms, Dean would have attacked the older boy again.  Instead, he glowered back.  “You just wait,” he swore.  “Sammy and I are gonna be the best dragons in the world.  You’ll see.”

 

Gwen scoffed, but she didn’t have time to do anything more before Dean’s Daddy got back and swept Dean and Sammy into the backseat of the car.  He closed the door behind him and stood there as the old man came out to argue with him some more.  Dean cradled Sammy close and tried not to cry.  He was so tired and so angry and he didn’t know what was going on.

 

“You’ll see, Sammy,” he whispered, voice wavering a little.  “I’m gonna teach you like Mommy taught me.  We’re gonna be the best dragons ever.  We’ll show them.”  He rocked back and forth a little, like he’d seen Mommy do with Sammy’s egg.  “We’re gonna be _awesome_.”

 

Sammy’s eyes opened and he blinked at Dean, looking totally calm.  Then he giggled a little and reached up a little hand to grab Dean’s shirt collar.  Dean grinned back at him, sniffling, and took that hand in his own.  “Hey, Sammy,” he said, and squeezed Sammy’s hand.

 

Dean startled when the front door of the car slammed, breaking his moment with Sammy.  Immediately, the smile left and Sammy’s face screwed up tight.  He began wailing like a banshee, making Dean grit his teeth.

 

“Dean!  Calm him down!”  Dad demanded.  “I can’t drive with him like this!”

 

“Shh, shh,” Dean whispered to Sammy, rocking him some more.  “I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, and then he started humming, like Mommy did with him when he was upset.  He pressed Sam’s face close to his chest and hummed until Sammy quieted, only make soft gurgling noises of contentment.

 

 

 

 

                                                                    

 

 

 

 

_FINIS_

 

 

 

 


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